


The Cure

by blooming_atlas



Category: Far Cry 5
Genre: A besotted John taking care of a recovering Deputy, Creepy Fluff, Drugging, Enemies to whatever the fuck they've become, Even if that means tying her to his bed and giving her no privacy, F/M, Menstruation, Partial Nudity, Rescued Rook from Faith's clutches and is taking care of her
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-02
Updated: 2018-11-02
Packaged: 2019-08-14 14:18:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16494215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blooming_atlas/pseuds/blooming_atlas
Summary: A besotted John Seed rescues Deputy Katherine Mills from Faith's tender mercies and has taken it upon himself to nurse her back to health.





	The Cure

The first thing Deputy Katherine Mills became aware of was a headache, a literal throbbing pain inside her skull. Oh, that’s right…Faith Seed had doped her up with Bliss. Why did the Bliss always give her such nasty headaches? She was in an uncomfortable position, but she was afraid to move, afraid the least twitch would set the hammers to pounding even harder than they already were. 

She was queasy, too, and she thought she might vomit. Something was wrong, but the fuzziness in her brain kept her from figuring out what. She tried to remember…something. Anything. For a sickening moment there was nothing there, no sense of place or time, just a horrifying lurch into the unknown. 

She remembered nosing around the Henbane, Faith Seed appearing from out of nowhere and blowing Bliss in her face and then…nothing. **  
**

Then the texture of the fabric beneath her made sense, and she knew she was in bed. Yes, that made sense. She had a headache, and she was in bed. Not her bed. She remembered going…no, she didn’t remember going to bed. The last clear memory when Faith had taken her was … but that eluded her, too, and she stopped fighting for it, letting the darkness and oblivion claim her again. 

When next Katherine woke, she thought she might be sick. What else could account for this overwhelming sense of illness? She was seldom ill, even with the sniffles, but surely only something as serious as a fever or the flu could make her feel so sick.

For the first time, she felt like a prisoner in her own body. There was no way she could get up and leave; she was stuck. Something was tugging on her head. It was a gentle, rhythmic tugging, and instead of making her headache worse, it actually soothed it, as if the sensation dulled her perception of the throbbing. Her arms ached. She tried to move them and found she couldn’t. Alarm pierced through the fogginess in her brain. 

She tried again to move her arms, with the same lack of result. “My arms,” she whispered, and her voice sounded awful, so hoarse it was unrecognizable. “Poor Kitten,” a soft voice murmured. “You’ll be alright. There, doesn’t this feel good?” The rhythmic tugging continued, slow and easy, and after a moment she realized someone was brushing her hair. It did feel good, but she didn’t want her hair brushed. She wanted to move her arms. She wanted to get up.

Despite the headache, despite her queasy stomach, she shifted uneasily in the bed and found she couldn’t move her legs, either. Panic, hard and bright, made her eyes flare open. Her vision swam with fuzzy images that didn’t quite make sense.

There was a man…but he wasn’t one of Faith’s, and that wasn’t possible. Why was a Peggie brushing her hair? “I’ll get you some water,” the soft voice crooned. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you, Kitten? Nice, cold water will feel so good down your throat. You’ve been asleep for such a long time I was worried that you wouldn’t wake up. I’m afraid that my beloved sister gave you too much Bliss.” 

_Sister?_

A cool hand slipped behind her neck and lifted her head, and a glass was put against her lips. The cold water hit her mouth in a rush, soaking into parched tissues, loosening her tongue from the roof of her mouth. Katherine’s stomach heaved as she swallowed, but thank God she didn’t vomit. She swallowed again, then again, before the glass was taken away. “Not too much, Kitten. You’ve had too much Bliss and your body couldn’t handle it.” She was still very sick if she was paralyzed, but maybe this man didn’t know she couldn’t move.

She closed her dull green eyes, fighting for strength, but, dear God, she didn’t have any. She was so weak that she felt almost boneless. “I’ll bring you some soup in a little while. You need to eat something. I didn’t realize that Faith had forgotten to feed you, and I’m afraid that the conditions she kept you under has made you ill.” The softness of the voice clicked, and memory crept back. 

“John Seed?” She croaked out. _'No. Anyone, but him.'_ “Yes, Kitten, I’m right here.” _No, no, no...God, please..._ “I feel so sick,” she whispered, opening her eyes and blinking. This time she found her vision had cleared a little, and she could plainly see his face, full of concern.  _‘Concern?’_  she thought.  _‘Since when has this sicko ever been concerned for anyone but himself?’_

“I know your ill, and I’m sorry for that.” A tattooed finger brushed across her cheek and Katherine shivered. “I can’t move,” she rasped. “Of course not. I couldn’t have you hurting yourself, now could I?”

“H-hurting myself?” She was winning the battle against the fog; with every passing second she felt less confused, more aware of her surroundings. She felt as if she were surfacing from anesthesia, which she remembered well from when that drunken asshole she had to arrest two years back had broken her arm, and she’d been put under general anesthesia when it was set. She’d hated the anesthesia a lot more than she’d hated the cast.

“If you tried to attack me again,” John Seed explained, but that didn’t make any sense. “I can’t. I haven’t.” _'Tried to attack him? '_ She had been doped up with Bliss, and Faith Seed's smiling face had been the last thing she remembered. 

“I know, I know. When I came to retrieve you from the Henbane you were so full of Bliss that you barely recognized me.” He chuckled. “You have a mean left hook, Kitten.” The brush moved slowly through her hair. “You have such lovely hair, Katherine. It was quite the bird’s nest when I found you. Overall I’m very pleased that my sister failed in turning you into an Angel, though your decision to punch me in the jaw was an unpleasant surprise. Still, you’ve been through a lot. I’m sure you’ll settle down around me with time.”

He wasn’t making any sense. ' _Settle down?'_ She frowned, her brow wrinkling, and he smoothed the creases with his fingertip. “Don’t frown, I love my sister, but even she has a tendency to go overboard with the Bliss. I couldn’t just allow her to turn you into one of her mindless drones, so I gathered up ten good men and rescued you. Be grateful that you were in Faith’s hands and not Jacob’s. Had he gotten to you first, you would have been lost to me.”

 _'Rescued?'_  A chill ran through her, and she went very still as an awful realization seized her. Her stomach heaved again, but this time with fear. “There’s been a family meeting concerning your escape, but luckily none of my siblings suspect me” he said, sounding a little proud. He was the one. He was her rescuer, the one who rescued her from Faith. He’d waited, and seized his chance. 

She wasn’t sick at all, she realized; there were still lingering traces of the Bliss in her body, and since she hadn’t eaten anything in the two days she had been with Faith, the drug had hit her hard and made her weak for the taking.

She had to answer him. _‘Don’t anger him,’_  she thought.  _‘Don’t do anything to make him wary.’_   **Think.**  She needed to find a way to get the fuck out of here.  **Think!** “Th-thank you,” she whispered. 

The brush paused in its motion. “My Kitten, I’m so sorry,” he said gently. “I wish I had gotten there in time. Joseph’s furious that Faith lost you and Jacob has sent some of his Chosen out to track you down. You’ll need to be quiet while your in my home.” He sounded so pleased that she was grateful to him for saving her life. And why the hell did he keep calling her Kitten? Only close friends and family members were allowed to call her that!

_‘Stay calm. Don’t get angry. Stay calm.’_

“I understand,” she whispered. “Could I have more water?” “Of course, Kitten, since you asked so nicely.” He lifted her head and held the glass to her lips again, and she gulped as much as she could.  _‘Water. Cool water…’_

“There,” he said as he let her head rest on the pillow again. “Feeling better, my darling?” “I’m…I’m still feeling dizzy. Can’t remember much.” He made an exasperated noise. “I should have realized. Don’t worry, Kitten, I’ll take care of you until you get better. You’ll feel so much more comfortable when your well again.”

Katherine tried once again to move her arms, and this time she felt something wrapped around her wrists. The truth occurred to her in a sickening rush: she was tied to the bed. To John Seed’s fucking bed! She fought the panic and disgust that threatened to overwhelm her. She couldn’t give in to it, she had to think, she had to concentrate. If she panicked she was helpless, but if she kept her wits, she might outsmart him.

She had one big advantage: she knew he was dangerous, but he didn’t know she was well enough to think clearly. 

 _‘Whitehorse.’_  

She remembered talking to him on the radio before Faith took her by surprise. 

Sooner or later he would call and want to see her, talk to her. All she had to do was keep things calm and under control until then. She didn’t want to do anything to agitate John Seed, prod him into as much as she could into violence. 

He was a sadist, obsessed with having everything go he way; he was happy now because she was here, slowly recovering from the effects of the Bliss and under his control. So long as he believed that she was at his mercy, she was safe. She hoped she was safe. But if he thought she was trying to escape from him, he was likely to explode into violence…or worst. If that happened, if she couldn’t make a clean escape, then she had to make certain she was ready to handle him.

But there was no telling how long it would take Earl Whitehorse to try to contact her. He didn’t know she was here, but members of the Resistance were probably tearing Hope County apart to find her. Whitehorse would try her radio first, and if she didn’t answer, he would try again later. “Later,” however, could be months later. No, Earl wouldn’t wait that long. He was too tenacious and would most likely set out on his own to track her down. Stubborn old man saw her as family and the last thing she wanted was for him to endanger himself because of her own stupidity.

But in the meantime she had to help herself. The first order of business was to convince John Seed to untie her. She made her voice weaker than it truly was. If he wanted her sweet and helpless, she’d give him sweet and helpless, at least until she could kick his pretty little ass. 

“John?” she mumbled. “Yes, Kitten?” He was smoothing out her hair, fingers massaging her scalp. “I…I’m so embarrassed to say this.” “You don’t have to be embarrassed about anything. I’m here to take care of you.” She swallowed. “I need to use the bathroom. I’m…I’m on my period,” she whispered, and she had the benefit of that being so true she was on the verge of really embarrassing herself. Add in the fact that she was having her goddamn period, and the situation was not good.

John tsked. “Dear me. That does present a problem.” “I—I think Faith paralyzed me. I can’t move,” she said, and let her voice wobble. It was better that he thought she was more incapacitated than she really was. Not that she would be able to fight or run even if she was untied, at this point, but she wanted him to think she was recovering very slowly.

“Of course you aren’t,” he exclaimed, his voice warm with sincere sympathy. _Strange. Did he really care for her wellbeing?_ “I just used restraints to keep you from harming yourself. Now, let me see, how can we work this?” Katherine squirmed a little; her distress was becoming so acute that it was no problem to let a tear leak out of her eye. She needed to see if she could walk, or if too much of the drug Faith had given her was still in her system. “Yes, that will work,” he murmured to himself, and folded back the covers.

To her immense relief she saw that she was still wearing her clothes; he’d removed her shoes, her weapons, her backpack and her radio was gone, but that was all. He worked diligently, untying her ankles and then refashioning the thick, rough rope-like restraints into a sort of hobble, with an extra length attached to it and held in his hand. If she could walk at all, it would be in very short steps, and if she tried anything, all he had to do was jerk the rope in his hand and she’d fall flat on her face.

_'Goddamn him to hell!'_

She was truly crying by the time he got all that worked out and began releasing her hands. “I’m sorry, I know you have to be miserable,” he crooned. “Just a few more minutes, and I’ll help you to the bathroom.” 

“Please hurry,” she croaked, squeezing her eyes shut. At last he was helping her to sit up, and she saw immediately that even if she were untied, she wouldn’t be able to accomplish much. Better to do nothing to arouse his suspicions this time, and wait until she was in better shape. She had to remember that he was stronger than he looked, if he’d managed to get her upstairs all by himself. She wouldn’t be surprised if he was as strong as Jacob. 

Katherine was so woozy that she could barely sit up; in fact, she couldn’t, not without help, and she leaned heavily into him.

It turned her stomach to touch him, but she had to concentrate on allaying his suspicions, and if that meant accepting his help, she’d grit her teeth and do it. He got her on her feet. Her knees immediately buckled, and he was supporting her entire weight. She clung to him as he half walked, half dragged her, to the big white tiled bathroom that was part of his quarters. 

All of her toiletries were set out on the vanity; since he’d unpacked her small backpack for her, she hoped her personal supplies were in the vanity drawers.

Yes, there was the bag she had packed everything in, sitting on a shelf; even if he’d left the tampons in the bag, she could get to them. He eased her over to the toilet, and stood there a moment looking uncomfortable.  _‘Gonna’ watch me shit, asshole? Go ahead. I’ll show you a real fucking treat.’_

“Do you need any help?” She braced her hand against the wall, panting. “I think I can manage.” He should feel safe leaving her in here; there was a window, but it was glass block; she couldn’t see out, no one could see in, and it didn’t open. 

Even if she could break it out, his bedroom was on the second floor; the first floor in this ranch, she’d noticed, had what appeared to be sixteen-foot ceilings, so the drop would be much higher than from the ordinary second-story window. 

She’d risk it, though, if that turned out to be her only chance. He looked around, and she could see him mentally cataloging the contents of the room to see if there was anything she could use as a weapon or to escape.

He was very careful, and he didn’t trust her. She leaned heavily against the wall, underscoring her weakness.  “All right,” he finally said. “I’ll be right outside if you need me.” 

“Could you leave the door open a little?” she asked. “Please? So you can hear me in case I fall.” Talk about reverse psychology, asking him to do the very thing he intended to do anyway; perhaps that would convince him she wasn’t making a break for it. Thank God she took that Psychology class in University. He looked pleased and gave her a sweet smile as he left the bathroom and pulled the door half-closed.

That was all the privacy she was going to get, but at this point she didn’t give a flying fuck. The relief was almost painful, and those damn tears leaked down her face again. She found the box of tampons in the bottom vanity drawer and took care of that problem, too. Feeling much better and not nearly as desperate, but still very weak, she hobbled to the sink and leaned against it while she wet a washcloth and washed her face and private areas. 

If he peeped, then he peeped; she didn’t give a damn. She needed to freshen up more than she needed to worry about her modesty.

Katherine drank more water, greedily gulping it down, then made her slow and wobbly way to the door. “Please,” she said weakly. “Help me back to bed.” John rushed to her side. “Lean on me,” he said tenderly. “My poor Kitten.” He supported her on the trek back to the bed and helped her lie down again. She was trembling, and it wasn’t a pretense; her legs felt as if they wouldn’t have supported her another minute. 

He caressed her cheek, smoothed her blonde hair back from her face, then began fastening the restraints around her arms and ankles. She had to bite her lip when he touched her, but she didn’t protest, just lay limply, her eyes closed.

Despite the fact that she wanted nothing more then to punch him in the face, having John pushing back her hair and stroking her cheek felt…really, really nice. Piece of shit actually cared about her and was enjoying playing nurse. _'And then what?'_ she thought fearfully. _'Is he going to mark me up? Torture me like he did Hudson?'_

“I’ll be right back with some food,” he murmured, and left the room, closing the door behind him. There was nothing she could do, trussed up like a dog as she was, so she didn’t even tug against the rope.

Katherine wouldn’t put it past the bastard to have this place wired for both video and audio, and if he was watching her on camera, she didn’t intend to do anything that would put him on alert. That brief excursion had exhausted her small bit of strength. She took a deep breath and let herself sink into the waiting darkness. She would use the darkness this time, to get stronger.

_‘And get the fuck out of here…’_

**Author's Note:**

> This is only part one of Nurse John looking after his Rook. Poor Katherine is not having a good time and John is SOOOO happy to finally have his sweet Depyootee in his care. 
> 
> Oh and Katherine's face claim is Amanda Seyfried. I deliberately chose that face claim because Katherine's "blonde delicate appearance" has fooled a lot of Peggies and it's fooling John. She'll escape...eventually. 
> 
> Katherine's father was a soldier and her mother is a survivalist who owns a gun store so she's not as "delicate" as she appears to be and is incredibly self-reliant. She's foul mouthed, bitter that her dream job has landed her in the middle of a holy war, hates Joseph with a passion and is just the tiniest bit attracted to John...but that won't be enough to make her stay with him.


End file.
